All language subtitles for Irish Blood s01e03 Under Wraps.eng

(footsteps crunching on leaves)

(soft music)

- There she is.
- Dad!

(speaking Irish)

(??)

So, how's she cuttin', darling?

- Pure shittily at the moment.

- I wouldn't blame ya..

...for going back home,
forgettin' all about me.

- Forget you?

30 years...

I haven't been
able to forget you.

Even when I wanted to.

I couldn't.

(??)

And I never give up.

(chuckles)

That's my girl.

- But I don't know
what to do next.

- What you see isn't
necessarily what's real.

(whispers): I wish
this was real.

- Ah, but it is.

Would you like me to prove it?

(whispering): Yes.

(music crescendo)

(echoing horse whinnying)

Hi!

(sighing)

(gasping)

(heavy breathing)

Yes! Two bars.

(curious music)

It's so fucking beautiful here.

It's the most gorgeous
place on earth.

And there's all this dark shit
happening right underneath.

- Fiona, let's get you home.

(??)

- I've been reading some of
Una's Irish mythology books.

They're basically
horror stories.

Screaming women
announcing deaths.

Blood suckers.

Three-headed monsters
laying the country to waste.

And while us naive Americans,

we think leprechauns are
these little cute

cartoon characters
on cereal boxes.

But they will literally
murder anyone

who gets near their pot of gold.

- Yeah.

- I mean, what the hell
is wrong with this place?

Why didn't you stay in England?

- Well, some people

go all the way west in America
to find their fortune.

I only had to pop over
to Ireland.

I opened my gym.
Got my life in order.

And now... it's home.

(??)

(sighing): Thank you.

(High & Low
by Gemma Hayes plays)

? I know ?

? I know ?

? Will I always be
looking for you? ?

? Oh ??

- I'm gonna find
this scum bastard-

- And do what, Finn?

I mean, he's threatened
to kill Fiona.

And he might come back
and finish the job with you

and then I'd have two dead sons!

Declan never should have
involved you in this!

- But he did.

- Have you any idea who it was?

- It was the same guy that
attacked me in my hotel room.

- Well, we'll call the Garda�,
get them to pull some mugshots-

- But it was in the middle
of the night,

and he was wearing a balaclava.

- Then how do you know
it was the same man?

- He had a very distinctive scar

on his right hand
like he'd been burned.

- Enough is enough.

- Una?

(whispering): It's alright.

(echoing): Una?

Una, what are you doing?

- My brother was an asshole!

Putting you in danger with
that bloody briefcase.

You need to get rid of it,
where is it?

- It's not here.
It's somewhere safe.

What are you doing?

- This isn't some game, Fiona!

It's not some come to Ireland

and solve a mystery
bloody paperback!

That man could've killed you!

- I know.

- Well, then please, Jesus,
please will you stop...

...exposing yourself
to this kind of danger?

- And miss the chance-

- The chance? What chance?
The chance to what?

To-to die an early death?

Like Declan?

- They stole him from me
and from my mom!

From your mom!

What else could they do, really?

(whimpering): A lot more.

- Then let them try.

(sighing)

(sighs)

(phone dings)

(Declan): My dearest Fiona,

I want you to know that I've
watched your career from afar.

Google alerts are
marvelous things.

The successful lawyer
that you've become

is because you're a fighter.

And you have the special ability

to be able to see
beyond the obvious.

That's your superpower.

(sighs)

(phone rings)

(R�is�n):
Garda Doherty speaking.

- R�is�n, are you busy?

(birds chirping)

Patsy Burgess, small potatoes.

People doing
the abducting, generally,

are not the ones
calling the shots.

- Close.

Patsy would be more
likely to auction you off

to the highest bidder,
than he would

to put a cattle bolt
in your head.

No, we are looking for

our very own Marlo Stanfield.

- Who's that?

- Head of the Baltimore
drug trade in The Wire.

(chuckles)

- You really love your TV.

(sighing)

Dad...

...which of these
things screams,

choose me and I'll lead you to
Wicklow's nastiest crime lord?

- Well, nastiest,
there's a couple.

We have the... Scarrows.

The Cartys...

...and the McIntyres.

- McIntyre.
That sounds familiar.

- Yeah, well, every Irish name
sounds familiar,

especially the ones
that begin with Mc, or O.

- Why is there is a boxing
glove in this briefcase?

(stammering)

- Well, ya ever seen a boxing
glove with holes in it?

No! It's for MMA.

Mixed Martial Arts.

- I know what MMA is...

- Well, you didn't know
what boxing gloves are-

- I know what
boxing gloves are.

Oh, there's this in here.

- Woah. What's this?

- Jesus, it's hard as a rock.

- Plaster of Paris will do that.

(suspenseful music)

Are there any unsanctioned
MMA fights here in Wicklow?

- There are, and...

(??)

Holy hell, Caoimhin McIntyre.

Of course! He-

(spiting)
(plastic clangs on floor)

An MMA fighter, from the wrong
side of Wicklow harbor.

He sanctions a heap of them.

The McIntyres, they have
their fingers in everything,

not just illegal gambling.

They are...

...real bad characters.

- Okay? So can you get me
the address of this

Cow-i-minh...

McIntyre?

- Caoimhin.
- Quee-vee.

- Caoimhin! Jesus!

Was last night not enough of
an adrenaline rush for ya?

What do you wanna do?

Walk up to his house,
ring his bell,

say, "Hey, wouldn't happen
to know anything

about the murder
of my dad, would you?"

- How do I get face-time
with him then?

- That does depend, actually.

How good are you at poker?

(Irish folk music)

(indistinct chatter)

(??)

- King of Spades.

(Declan): Now the last card
is...

...the King of Spades.

Do you call or raise?

- I raise 10.

- And I fold.

- What? Why?

- Why?

Because you, young lady...
have no poker face.

- But I have a great hand.
- Indeed.

But here's the thing, Fiona.

You know the rules of the game.

Now you need to learn
the unwritten rules.

Numero uno

is read the other players.

I read ya like a book.

So I folded.

- Well, that's not fair.

- The sooner you learn that
it's not what people say or do,

but what they're hiding...

(whispering):
...you'll be unstoppable.

- Is the Gr�inne Mhaol on Lonely
Planet's Best of Ireland list?

- What are you doing here?

- I am here, madame,
to play poker.

- I picture you at a casino,

wearing a white tuxedo jacket,

sipping a martini.

- James O'Bond?

(chuckles)

No. Far too many pesky
rules and regulations

when it comes to
legal gambling in this country.

And you?

- Oh, I'm here to play poker.

- Oh, really? Hmm.

- How do ya handle a bad beat?

(scoffing)

(grunting): I'm out.

- I'll bet 10.

- I see your 10.
I raise 10 more.

- Hmm, have a good hand there?

- Wouldn't be betting on it
now if I wasn't, would I?

- So, remember...

...keep your cards close.

But your face even closer.

- So, Cow-mhin-

- Caoimhin.
- Right.

I hear you're
a pretty talented fighter.

- Yeah, who'd you
hear that from?

- Declan Murphy.

- Happy as Larry,
that Declan was.

Never struck me as
the suicidal type, you know?

- What do you think
happened to him?

(scoffing): The man
was out of control.

Gambled on everything.

Dumb bastard probably
lost one game too many

so he went and cashed
in all his chips.

(both laughing)

- Well, I'd love to see you
in action in the ring some time.

- Cage.
- Right.

And if I were to bet on you,
you're a sure thing, right?

- Haven't lost a fight in years.
- That's incredible.

You must really
be the real deal.

- Meaning what?

- Well, nobody goes undefeated

without a little help
if you know what I mean.

- You implying that I cheat?

No one throws matches for me.

Ever.

Got it?

- I stand corrected.

And... I'm all in.

(scoffing)

- I may be rich,
but I'm not stupid.

And that's how it's done-

- Show us your cards, love.

- Why? It's not a rule.

- Show them.

- Alright.

(groaning)

Complete hustle, that was.

- You scratch your nose.

Your left eye twitches and you
have no poker face whatsoever.

And you, Caoimhin-

- I what?

- Your pecs flex
when you're lying.

(laughing)

- I think you best run along

to the next stop
on your Irish tour.

- Thank you.

This was fun.

- Go get a round in, will you?

Need to phone Johnny.

- Yeah, give him a call.

(grunting)

- Hey, Johnny.

Yeah, something dodgy's after
going down at the Gr�inne Mhaol.

(Musa): You are lucky
you're still in one piece.

But you're gonna need to be able
to protect yourself.

- Honestly, I'm fine.
- You weren't this morning.

- It's just your
typical bog rendezvous

with a psycho
wielding a bolt gun.

All part of life's
majestic pageant.

(chuckling): Okay, focus.
Show me what you got.

(whispering): Okay.

(groaning)

(laughing)

- Come on.

Nah! Go on.

(whimpering)

Got you.

- Now if someone attacked
you from behind...

- Mm-hmm.
- Don't panic...

- Okay.
- Stay calm, alright?

What I want you to do
is grab them by the arm.

There you go.

- Have you ever done
any MMA fighting?

- A few guys tried to
recruit me from the gym,

but boxing's more my thing.

- Mm-hmm.

- From here...
- Mm-hmm.

- You need to elbow me
in the groin.

- Okay.
- Go for it.

(groaning): There you go.

And now my follow up,
twist my arm.

- Okay...
- There you go.

And then press down...
right on my shoulder.

- I could break your arm.

(chuckling): Yeah, you could.
You could, or...

I could do this.

- Don't you think pepper spray
would be more effective?

- Sure. If it wasn't illegal.

- Speaking of illegal,

Caoimhin McIntyre.

- Yeah, not so loud.

His cousin,
Johnny's a member here.

- Hmm. Interesting.
I played poker with him today.

And-
- Um, Fiona...

the McIntyres are not
the kind of guys

you wanna play go fish with.

Let alone poker.

- And when I implied he
might cheat at MMA-

- Jesus. It gets worse.
- He insisted he didn't.

Musa. His pecs didn't flex.

- Huh?
- That's his tell.

They didn't flex because
he was telling the truth.

I wanna show you something that
I found in Declan's briefcase.

- Hmm.

Are these Caoimhin's?

- I don't think so.

- There's something in them.
- Plaster.

- Hmm. Hit someone
hard enough with these

you might injure them, badly.

Maybe even kill them.

- Mm-hmm.

Do you have any idea
who they might belong to?

- This gym's been
closed down since the 90s.

- Ah, so definitely
not Caoimhin.

- Mm-hmm. Not unless
he was doing cage matches

in his Junior Cycle.

(distant sirens)

(phone ringing)

- Hey there!

- Can you run a search
for MMA fights in Wicklow

going back to the 90s?

Find any matches
that led to a fatality.

- Okay, give me a second
to work my magic...

Okay, now Fiona, I respect your
resolve, I really do,

but when I think of Ireland,

I think of hitting
the Guinness factory,

not scary bogs
and deadly MMA matches.

- Well, you're lucky

that I'm not going to
a leprechaun museum.

- Thank god for small miracles.

- I went to the cottage.

- Ooh, and?

- I hate that I love it.

- Okay, well, you wouldn't
be complaining to a Gen Z

about a free house
in Ireland now, would you?

- It's just that
I keep expecting

the other shoe to drop.

Like they'll be termites or...

some ancient Celtic
curse on the land.

- Okay, well,
I will gladly take both

the termites and the curse...

and I think I just found
something from 1995.

- Okay.
- Sending it to you... Now.

(phone dings)

- Uhh, got it.
Umm...

Wicklow man dies
in MMA knock-out.

Tragedy struck an
unofficial MMA match

in the third round last night

at a warehouse outside of town
limits when Benji Donovan...

24, Benji Donovan.
Siobhan's brother.

- Okay, just found
an obituary...

Benji Donovan. Okay.

Benji Donovan, son of Bran
and Doreena Donovan

of Wicklow...

- That's him.

Poor family.

Did anyone get charged?

- Um... just a sec,
sending it to you now.

(phone dinging)
- Okay. Uhh...

(murmuring): Johnny McIntyre...

- I take it you know him.

- I recognize the name.

(gasping)

Beannacht Ben.
- The horse?

- Yes! Hold on! Um...

Jonny McIntyre of Wicklow

found the horse
and alerted authorities.

That McIntyre name
keeps coming up.

Someone's blood
is on those wraps.

- So you're saying that
Benji Donovan's death

wasn't accidental?

- Yes.

- That Johnny McIntyre
murdered him?

- Yes.

- And these wraps
in your dad's briefcase,

came with what?

A note explaining
their significance?

- Well, no, they-

- So there's no
actual proof then.

- No, but this is a clue.

That's old blood.
Probably Johnny's.

Run DNA on these gloves
for both of men.

- And then anything we find,

we can run a familial DNA test
against Siobhan Donovan,

or her parents.

- And Johnny McIntyre?

He's just going to...

open wide and let me swab
his right cheek, is he?

Don't you think we've tried
to take down the McIntyres?

But no, you're
gonna stroll in here

with your gung-ho Yank know-how

and show us all
how it's really done. Hmm?

- Sir, I would
be happy to lead-

- And I'd be happy to hop in
a jacuzzi with Halle Berry.

That's not my
future either, is it?

McAvoy!

(curious music)

Whenever you're ready.

(muttering): Okay.

- Claude can't see
past the end of his nose.

- It's not the first time
a cop's let me down.

We're on to Plan B.

- Who does Claude think he is?
Kojack?

(seagulls cawing)

(??)

- Good man. There you go.

Nice one, man. Good.
You want me to what?

- Let me break into
Johnny McIntyre's locker.

I'll be in and out.

- Isn't this all
a bit of a stretch?

- It might be.
But what if it's not?

What if a DNA match on those old
wraps could put away a murderer?

Someone who also might
have killed Declan?

- Alright, well...

...his locker's the one
with quite a graphic

anatomical masterpiece.

- Thank you.
- Yes, well...

(distant shouting
and fists hitting punching bags)

(tense music)

(distant shouting
and fists hitting punching bags)

Charming.

(nearby man): Hey, come on Pete,
get in here.

I know you have
something to add.

- Johnny!
- Musa.

- Sight for sore eyes.

(groaning)

Even more charming...

(distant voice):
What's going on, Musa?

- You're here for a workout?
I'm free if you'd like to spar.

Always ready to give a...
you know, a helping hand

to my most loyal customers.

You know, that'll
keep you coming back.

- You alright?

- Yeah man.

Why you acting so daft?

- Am I? D'you know what?

(sighing)
It's been a long day.

(chuckling)

- Oh,

I know I've been harping
onto you about this,

but tomorrow is our
private MMA bout.

And if you wanna go up
against Caoimhin...

...it'd make for a proper
scrap for once.

- D'you know, I like where
my nose is on my face.

(echoing): Anyway, look,
either way, win or lose,

there's money
in it for you.

(Musa): I'm good.

- How many members
did you lose

to that posh gym
up the road this week?

- Seven...

- Well, look, if I can
sort you out with a loan...

(suspenseful music)

- No, I'm okay.

Thank you.

- I'm good. I'm good, Johnny!
- I see.

(echoing): I'm good.
Johnny. Johnny!

Johnny, boy!

- What Musa? What?

Hello?

(gasping)

(??)

(sighs)

- How'd this get
out of my locker?

- I was just, um...

...looking for my dad's locker.

- Who's your dad then?

I know most of the members here,

so maybe I can...
I can help you out.

- Thank you.

Um, I'm pretty sure I'll be
fine finding it on my own.

- Yeah. You look like
a resourceful woman.

(??)

- I should leave you to change

because this is
the men's after all.

- Well, gender's merely a
construct these days. Isn't it?

- I like your towel.

(suspenseful music)

(phone ringing)

- Yeah, it's me.

That Yank won't
leave well enough alone.

Scaring her isn't gonna cut it.

So when are you gonna
let me do things my way?

(??)

- Every year,
close to 200 Irish people

die in traffic collisions.

Logging in these reports online
will help make our roads safer.

- Understood.

- No job too small.

Stand up. Grab the ball.

- I beg your pardon, what?

- Little saying I came up with.

When opportunity arises,

you need to grab those balls.

Even the little tiny ones.

Grab those balls

and bounce your way
to the peak of excellence.

(sighing)

- I bet Olivia Benson didn't
have to grab any feckin' balls.

- You do know why
Sergeant Claude

is gunning for you, right?

- Because I had
the audacity to be born?

- It's all thanks
to that Yank woman.

- Fiona?

She's onto something.

- Our boss disagrees.
Why do you care so much?

- I've seen what happens when
bad people get away with shit.

When they have power.

- Oh, well, unless you fancy
spending the rest of your days

filling out traffic reports...

...you best start
looking out for yourself.

(slow piano music)

- I had his mouthguard
right in my hand.

- I could try and get you
something else from Johnny.

- Oh, thank you.
No, you've done enough.

And if he's as dangerous
as everyone says,

I don't want you putting
yourself at risk.

Thank you, for yesterday
and for just now.

- Of course.

And if you need any help,
just let me know.

I mean it.

I'll do anything for...

...Declan.

- I'll keep that in mind.

Thank you.

(intriguing music)

(Declan): When it
comes to fighting,

strategy rules the day.

Like David and Goliath,

David strolls in, packing
just a sling and stone.

Looks like he's a dead man
against monstrous Goliath.

(yelping)

Fiona, get up.

- And do what?

Maybe everyone's right.

I should let the Garda�
figure it out.

- But I put my faith in you.

- Why?

- Because you can do this.

You're smart.
You're resourceful.

Come on. Up.

(whimpering)

(??)

(shouting)

- You know, Goliath
was a cocky shit.

Totally underestimated
the peace-loving shepherd.

- Underestimate me
at your own peril.

(shouting)

(chuckling)

- Like I said, resourceful.

For a while, it looked
like Goliath was right.

No way the behemoth would fall.

(grunting)

And suddenly,
David's stone comes flying.

Straight at
Goliath's weak spot.

Find that weak spot, Fiona.

(grunting)

(bell dings)

(crowd cheering)

(gasping)

(suspenseful music)

(phone ringing)

(Musa): Hello, you.

- Hey, Musa. I could
really use your help.

- You want me to get into
the cage with Caoimhin McIntyre?

Tonight?

- He's Johnny's cousin,
so if we could get a DNA sample,

we could match it to Johnny.

Forget it.

It's too much and I
can find another way.

- No, no.

Of course.

I'm happy to help.

- Really?

- I'm there.

(sighs)

Thank you.

You are the best, Musa.

Oh.

- Oh, I'm so sorry!

- I'm so sorry.
- I'm so sorry.

I...

I just wasn't expecting that.

It's just a surprise.

- Yup.

Anyways...um,
I'll see you tonight?

- Aye aye!

(muttering): Aye aye?

What are you doing?
What the fuck?

(Des Goblin plays in background)

(crowd cheering and clamoring)

- Oh, there you are.

Nice hat.

- Thanks.

Last thing I need
is Bossypants McGobshite

ratting me out for being
at an illegal fight.

- And that hat keeps your cover?

- It's... It's a good hat.

- It's cute.
- Thanks.

(chuckling)

- Hey, bitches.

- Oh, okay, that's aggressive.

- Fuck off.

- I know why he's mad at me,
but what did you do?

- Probably arrested him,
or maybe one of his friends.

Comes with the territory.
- Okay.

(crowd cheering)

I wish I hadn't
asked Musa to do this.

- You're finished!

I don't know why
he didn't say no!

(whispering): Musa... Musa.

- For a sharp woman,
you are bat blind sometimes.

He's in that cage
for you, you know?

- Oh, God. That makes it
even worse.

(announcer on speaker):
First time MMA champion,

Musa Makinde!

- Nothing wrong with
a holiday hookup.

- Musa doesn't
feel like a hookup guy.

- What does he feel like?

- I don't know.

- Maybe you are partial to
the ol' hump and run, after all.

- You have no sense of
boundaries, do you?

- Boundaries are for normies.

And with all due respect,

you are not normal.

(crowd cheers)

(bell dings)

- Let's see what you've got,
pretty boy. Come on!

- Come on, Musa!

(bell dings)

(heavy metal music)

(grunting)

(bell dings)

(announcer):
Round one, Caoimhin.

- Oh shit. Stop, stop, stop.
Round's over.

- Musa...

- I blame your dad.
For your problems.

- My problems run way deeper

than garden variety
daddy issues.

- You downplay
the impact he had.

A parent abandoning
a child leaves a scar.

But...

scars are like badges of honor.

They say fuck you. I survived.

(heavy metal music)

(bell dings)

(crowd cheering)

(grunting)

- Oh, my god...

(pained grunts)

(pained groans)

Oh...

- I thought you were a fighter.

Come on, up you get!

(??)

(pained grunts)

- Oh, don't look at that.

Don't... you don't need
to look at that bit.

(Fiona): No!

(groaning)

Musa!

(groaning)

- Break it up! Break it up!
Hey, hey, hey! Come on!

Round's over,
back to your corner.

(announcer):
Round two, Caoimhin.

- Musa...

Musa!

Oh, God.

Okay, is any of that
blood Caoimhin's?

- I don't think
that man's sweating.

- Musa.

You need to step out of
the ring now. Call it. Call it!

- Where's the fun in that?

- You've lost your mind!
Get out of there!

(crowd cheering)

(heavy metal music)

- Fight!

(bell dings)

(groaning)

(grunting)

(??)

(screaming)

Oh! Okay!

(bell rings)

- Yes!

(announcer): Round three, Musa.

(crowd cheering)

Yes.

Yes.

(soft music)

(chuckling)

Thanks, mate.

- Thank you so much.

I don't know how to repay you.

(??)

- Dinner would be good.

Drinks, if you're
feeling up to it.

- I'd love that.

(??)

(police sirens)

(tense music)

(grunting)

(??)

- Where's Johnny McIntyre?

- He went into the changing
room about 20 minutes ago...

Fiona.
- The DNA was a match.

- Come on, lads. This way.

- So that means...

- Johnny McIntyre,
you are the father.

- Well, in this case,
the cousin.

- Bollocks!

- Musa, you got a car handy?
Help out an old mate. Yeah?

(screaming)

(pained scream)

Have you got a car?

(groaning)

Go back to LA.

Hello. Who's your dad then?

Let's go. Come on.

- It was you in my hotel room

and at the bog.

Did you kill my father too?

- There he is.
Stay right where you are.

- Stop him!

(shouting): Did you
kill my father?

- Johnny McIntyre, you are
not obliged to say anything

unless you wish to do so.

- I'd keep my name out of
your mouth if I were you.

- With pleasure.

- You can't prove anything!

Load of bollocks.

- Go, show's over. Go on.
Go on, get back to work.

(gym din)

(intriguing music)

- Benji was murdered.

(sighing)

Johnny McIntyre
murdered my brother.

In cold blood.

- I'm so sorry.

- Dear god.

- I'm sorry for
digging this back up.

- No. The truth is more
important than anything.

Your father? Did Johnny...
do you think he-

- I don't have any proof.

- Will you go back to America?

- Eventually.

I mean, who else is gonna
extract a second infinity pool

off of Mrs. Westmiller's
ex-husband?

- You mean she only has one?
- Mm-hmm.

- How does
the poor woman survive?

- Barbaric, right?

And he's a cheating asshole
with three DUI's, so...

- Take him for all he's got.

(intriguing music)

- Smug prick.

- He looks good with
an eye patch, though.

Musa's gonna be here any minute,

so I'm just gonna
finish getting ready.

- Go on. Go on.

You make yourself beautiful,
I'll make myself scarce.

- Okay.
- And remember...

Feel your feelings.

And go with the flow.

Or hump and run,
if that's the vibe.

- Thank you, Dr. Doherty.

- Doherty.

- Doherty.

- Dah-her-tee.

- Doherty? Doherty.

- Alright.

(phone buzzing)

- Oh, can you get that?
- Sure.

- Who are you?

- Who are you?

- I asked you first.

- Is that Los Angeles
behind you?

- Yeah.

- I always wanted
to see a palm tree.

A real one.

Not like those little piddly
ones they have over here.

- I'm sorry,
is this Fiona Fox's phone?

- It is. She's currently getting
ready for a smoking hot date

with a hotter than hot hottie

who is so much more
than just hot.

And I facilitated
that love connection!

- Oh, she swipes
Tinder with you, now?

- Ah, yeah, she won't
be needing Tinder

now that I've sorted her out.

I can pass something on.

- Um, yes.

She was asking about someone
named Johnny McIntyre

and I looked him up.

- Ugh, well, we locked him up!

Happy to pass
anything on though.

- Why did I come in
to work today?

Yeah, um, just let her know that
Tess videoed or called her.

Whatever.

- Will do. Bye, Tess.

(phone clanging on desk)

(knocking at door)

It's open.

(door opening)

- Do I have the wrong date?

- No, you have precisely
the right date.

Have fun, lovebirds.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- You like Chinese, right?

- Yes. It's not the cuisine I'd
associate with Ireland though.

- You'd be surprised.

(Little Red
plays in background)

(both laughing)

(Fiona): Nothing better than
a man who knows his takeout.

- You only love me
for my spice bag.

(both laugh)

- Who would've thought something
called a spice bag

would be so delicious?

(laughing)

And of course,
you have to travel

all the way across
the Atlantic to get them.

- Well...

...I think that's
a really good reason

to come back to Ireland.

- My lip...

- What? Oh, I'm sorry.

- It's okay.

- Where else does it hurt,
so I can be more careful?

- Here.

Here.

(whispering): Where else?

-And...

Here.

(Little Red
plays in background)

(suspenseful music)

- This one is it?

(door creaking)

- Say hello to the rest of
your life Johnny McIntyre.

- Wait a second, I know you.

You're Declan's brother,
aren't you?

D'you know?

I'd hate for you to walk into
thin air the same way he did-

- I've got it from here.

(sighs)

- Lock him up good and tight.

- Aye, Finn. On you go on now.

- Bastard.

(??)

(Johnny): Here. I have a message
I want you to deliver.

- Not exactly in a position

to be demanding things
now are ya, Johnny?

- No.

That's a lovely
little terrace house

you and your wife and your
two daughters,

Annie and Jenna,
live in up in Glenview Road

near St. Mantan's Park...

Did I get that right?

(suspenseful music)

Wanna tell me the position
I'm in now, ya prick?

- The message.

- You tell the boss that
I'm stuck here in a clink

and I'm hearing life
in prison for murder

all because
I followed his orders.

And if I'm to go down,
I'm taking him down with me.

You got that?
You wanna write it down?

- I got it.

- Good.

Also, you tell him,

either he sorts it out
or I start blabbering.

And let me tell you something.

Once I get going, I won't stop
until he loses everything.

And I mean everything.

(??)

(tense music)

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